


No Reason To Hide

by tinadp



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Brotherhood, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-06 09:01:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3128804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinadp/pseuds/tinadp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short collection of one shots, each with a sick Musketeer trying to convince the others that he is "fine". </p><p>Chapter 1 Porthos is sick, he's used to having to hide it.  Aramis just wants to take care of him.<br/>Chapter 2 Athos<br/>Chapter 3 Captain Treville<br/>Chapter 4 D'Artagnan (as prompted by DebbieF)<br/>Chapter 5 Aramis</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Porthos

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a one shot with sick Porthos. I've decided to add extra chapters for each of the boys. Each chapter is independent of the others, the main theme being one of the boys is sick, but of course says he's "fine".  
> Because who can resist a sick Musketeer being looked after by his brothers? I can't, but maybe that's just me. 
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who's been leaving kudos and commenting on my other stories, they are very much appreciated.

Porthos realized he was getting sick on the ride back to Paris. His nose had been itching and tickling all morning with frequent sneezes but he didn't really start to feel sick until afternoon. By the time the four men stopped for lunch he had a pounding headache and his throat was feeling raw and scratchy. The provisions they had packed for lunch held little appeal for him. 

The last thing he wanted to do was distract his friends from the mission and their own safety but Aramis was instantly concerned when he noticed he was only picking at his food. "Porthos are you all right?" He asked, the worry already present in his voice. 

Porthos looked up surprised, he had forgotten for a moment how observant he was. "'Course I am, why?"

"You're not eating."

"I'm eating!"

"Not very much, when you're not hungry it usually means..."

Porthos put up his hand to stop his friend,"I'm fine, stop being such a mother hen. " He took a large piece of bread and started eating to prove his point. He made sure not to wince at the pain in his throat when he swallowed. 

"I'm sorry," Aramis apologized,"You just didn't seem yourself."

Porthos waved off Aramis' apology feeling guilty for his dishonesty. "Don't be sorry 'Mis. I know you can't help yourself." He grinned at his friend and returned to his lunch. The four fell into easy conversation as they finished their lunches and rested before returning to the last leg of their trip. 

A sudden, violent sneeze from Porthos interrupted the conversation. "'Scuse me." He mumbled sheepishly. 

"God bless you Porthos," D'Artagnan offered. 

"Porthos...." Aramis began but the larger man interrupted. 

"Aramis, it was just one sneeze, it doesn't mean I'm sick!" Porthos insisted, feeling even more guilty as he said it. He did not miss the pointed look from Athos whom he realized must have been riding close enough to hear him sneezing all morning. 

Aramis frowned at Porthos clearly not believing his claim. "If you say so my friend," He shook his head sadly. "You will let me know if you start to feel unwell.."

"Of course," Porthos mumbled guilty and started to pack up his things. "Are we ready to go?"

As they packed their gear, Athos leaned closely to him, "You know this is not going to end well for you." He squeezed his friend's arm in sympathy. "You are sure you're fit enough to make it home?" Porthos nodded, wondering how he could possibly get himself out of the situation he had created. 

The rest of the ride to Paris passed uneventfully. Porthos, knowing Aramis was intently watching him managed to stifle his sneezes, though this resulted in his headache increasing tremendously. By the time they returned to the garrison he could barely see straight for all the pain in his head. He also found himself shivering though from the look of them, the others didn't seem to be feeling the cold at all. 

He steeled himself for Aramis' anger and disappointment and prepared to apologize. He slid awkwardly off his horse, stumbling as his feet hit the ground. Athos' quick response was the only thing that kept him on his feet. He closed his eyes against the dizziness, gripping Athos' arm for a moment until he steadied himself. 

When he opened his eyes Aramis was standing in front of him, "I'm sorry Aramis.....I didn't..." Porthos began. 

He was interrupted by Aramis' gentle touch on his cheek, "Shhhhh. No need to apologize my friend. Come on, you're feverish, let's get you to bed." Porthos looked into Aramis' eyes and was grateful that all he saw was concern and compassion. He allowed himself to be led from the stable as Athos and D'Artagnan tended to the horses. 

After the horses were passed to the stable boy Athos went to report to Treville and sent D'Artagnan along to assist Aramis with his patient. He knocked softly on Porthos' door and poked his head in. He found Porthos tucked snugly into bed and Aramis stoking the fire, preparing to heat a kettle of water. In response to D'Artagnan's offer of help, Aramis asked if he would stay with Porthos while he returned to his quarters for some herbs to make a medicinal tea. 

D'Artagnan settled himself in the chair beside the bed. "How are you feeling?" He asked sympathetically. 

"Not so bad," Porthos replied, his voice starting to get hoarse. "Feeling pretty guilty though...I shouldn't have lied to Aramis. " 

D'Artagnan understood how he felt, having done the same thing himself under similar circumstances. "Is he very angry with you?"

"Nah, that's what's making it even worse. I wish he would just let me have it and be done with it. But he's not said a word about it. " This surprised D'Artagnan who had been on the receiving end of Aramis' anger for behaving the same way in the past. 

"Maybe he's waiting until you're feeling better?" The younger man wondered. 

Porthos shrugged, "I'd rather just get it over with."

"Get what over with?" Athos slipped into the room. 

"Have Aramis yell at me." Porthos answered. "I know it's coming..."

Athos shook his head,"I can't help you with that my friend. How are you?"

Porthos shrugged, "I've been better, but I'm all right."

Athos nodded "Treville has us off duty for the next few days, so you'll have time to recover. "

"I'm sure I'll be fine by morning," the large man insisted. 

"I'm quite sure that Aramis might have a different opinion. " Athos replied with a faint smile. "I'm going to head to the kitchen and see what I can find for our supper."

With that Porthos and D'Artagnan were alone again. D'Artagnan sat quietly waiting for his friend to take the lead, not knowing if he'd want to talk or just rest. The silence was broken by several powerful sneezes. 

"God bless you." D'Artagnan offered sympathetically as Porthos excused himself and reached for the handkerchief Aramis had left on the table beside the bed. 

D'Artagnan winced sympathetically at the sound of his friend's congestion. "You're really not sounding well Porthos is there anything I can do?"

Porthos smiled and croaked a reply, "No it's just nice not to be alone." 

Hearing the hoarseness of his voice the Gascon quickly poured him a glass of water from the pitcher. "Earlier I thought you wanted to be alone." He commented, surprised by the sentiment. 

"No...it's just hard to change old habits. Before I met Aramis, I never had anyone look after me. In the Court you had to hide it when you were hurting, else some would take advantage of your weakness. You'd think after all this time that wouldn't still be my first instinct..." He paused, sighing. 

D'Artagnan reached out and squeezed his hand,"I'm sorry Porthos."

Porthos squeezed back and smiled. "Not to worry lad, those days are long gone. "

Aramis returned a few minutes later with a small pouch of herbs and a bottle of honey. He set about making Porthos' tea. Sensing his two friends needed a few moments alone, D'Artagnan went to help Athos with dinner. 

Once the tea was ready Aramis sweetened it liberally with honey and handed it to Porthos, he then sat on the edge of the bed beside his friend. Porthos could see the worry on his friends face and felt even more guilty. "Aramis," he began. 

"Stop Porthos, you don't need to say anything, I'm not angry. I'm just worried about you. "

"No, I need to say this."Porthos began, his voice cracking. "For my whole life, before I joined the regiment I had to hide it when I was sick. No one does you any favors in the Court and you can't show any weakness. Even as a boy, when I was sick I'd just find somewhere to hide until it passed..."

"I can't tell you how much that breaks my heart," Porthos looked up to see tears in Aramis' eyes. 

"Aramis, it's fine," Porthos squeezed his hand. "You were the first person to ever take care of me. The first person to make me feel I was worth caring about. After all this time with you looking after me it shouldn't be so hard to admit when I'm sick or hurting. But sometimes it still is. And.... I'm sorry I know I shouldn't try to hide it..."

He didn't get to finish because he was pulled into a fierce hug from the man beside him. "Shhhh you silly fool. Stop apologizing before you make me sob like an infant! The thought of you sick and alone and having to hide is devastating to me, I can't imagine what that must have been like for a child. All I can do is make sure that now you are taken care of whenever you are ill or injured and that you always know you have the love of your brothers. "

"I do know that Aramis," his words were muffled in Aramis' hair, "and I will always be grateful for it."


	2. Athos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time it's Athos who's sick, and there's soup. More shameless fluff without much plot, well maybe no plot...

D'Artagnan looked across the tavern at his mentor and frowned. 

"What's wrong lad?" Porthos asked taking in his expression with some concern. 

The Gascon shrugged, "It's Athos, something's not right with him."

"Too much wine do you think?" Porthos questioned. 

"I don't think so, but he doesn't look well and he doesn't seem himself today."

Aramis looked across the room to scrutinize Athos, noting his pallor and fatigued appearance. "You're right D'Artagnan , he doesn't look well. Perhaps he's coming down with something..."

"There's definitely something goin' round the garrison." Porthos added. "Not that he'd admit it if he was feeling sick."

"He's far too stubborn for his own good when he's ill." Aramis tsked

D'Artagnan and Porthos grinned at that, "There's a lot of that going 'round too." Porthos added. 

Aramis huffed and rolled his eyes, then turned to D'Artagnan, "Did you see him at all today?"

D'Artagnan nodded, while Aramis and Porthos had been out in the city for the day, he had been drilling with the new recruits and Athos had been on duty at the palace. "I ran into him at lunch, he seemed off somehow and he wasn't at supper. "

"We should go join him before he realizes we're standing over here talking about him." Porthos suggested and the men made their way across the tavern with their wine and joined Athos at the table beside the fireplace. 

Athos nodded to his friends as he sipped his wine. "Gentlemen." The others frowned at the distinct nasal quality of his voice. 

"How are you Athos?" D'Artagnan asked taking a seat beside the older man. 

"I am fine, and you my friends?" The others responded and they all fell in to easy conversation about the days activities. It was a rare day that the four were all on duty but all off in different directions and not serving together. It was their custom after such days to meet at the tavern. They were tales to tell and updates on the day's activities. After a time Porthos found his way to a card game and Aramis had made his way to the back room to try to woo the new young barmaid. 

D'Artagnan remained with Athos, feeling no less concerned about his health. He could hear the congestion in the older man's voice as well as see the furrows in his forehead and notice him squinting in the light, leading him to believe he was suffering from a headache as well. 

He was debating whether or not to ask his friend how he was feeling when Athos suddenly turned away from the table to sneeze. "Please excuse me D'Artagnan." He murmured reaching into his pocket to retrieve his handkerchief. 

"Bless you Athos." D'Artagnan offered frowning with concern. 

The older man nodded his thanks, handkerchief poised in anticipation of the next sneeze. "What is wrong?" He asked, noting the younger man's expression. 

"You're ill." D'Artagnan stated, it was not a question. 

Athos shook his head, "No, I'm not I'm ..." He began breathlessly before being overcome with several more sneezes. He sheepishly avoided the younger man's eye as he blew his nose forcefully. 

D'Artagnan cringed in sympathy, "Yes, of course Athos. You sound perfectly healthy. "

"There's no need for you to be concerned D'Artagnan. Truly, I am fine." His voice was a bit more hoarse and D'Artagnan could see the signs of his friends discomfort. 

"Athos, please. I can see you're not feeling well."

"It's just a slight cold." Athos began pausing to clear his throat. "I assure you..."

"I know you have a headache and you're voice is fading, perhaps you should get some rest?" The Gascon asked hopefully. 

Athos sighed,"Clearly you've been spending too much time with Aramis, you're starting to sound just like him..."

"Is that a compliment or an insult I wonder?" Aramis asked, coming behind Athos and placing his hand on his friends shoulder. 

D'Artagnan smiled at the appearance of his friend. "I'll take it as a compliment." 

"So tell me how you're feeling Athos, truthfully please." The marksman asked sitting beside his friend. 

"As I told D'Artagnan I'm fine. " Aramis and D'Artagnan looked at him doubtfully. "I may be coming down with a cold, but it's really nothing concerning. "

"What do you think D'Artagnan?" Aramis asked, ignoring the answer of the man between them. 

"He's ill. He's congested and sneezing and I'm sure he has a headache. " Aramis nodded appreciatively at his friends assessment. 

"Whatever you do, don't listen to me." Athos scowled. 

Aramis turned to the older man, "Is he wrong Athos?"

"No, I suppose not." He huffed in defeat.

The other men shared a faint smile at their small victory, though their concern for their friend took away any real feeling of satisfaction. "Perhaps we should make it an early night?" Aramis asked. 

Athos sighed,"There's no need for you gentleman to have an early night. Though I'll most likely retire to my rooms." Once he was forced to admit his illness it seemed too much effort to ignore his symptoms. 

He stood to leave and D'Artagnan quickly stood beside him. "I'll come along for the walk." He offered and Aramis nodded approvingly. 

"I'm perfectly capable of getting myself home D'Artagnan." Athos stated, though at the moment he did welcome the thought of the company. 

"I'm sure you are," D'Artagnan replied, "But I'll tag along anyway." He offered a grin to the older man who merely rolled his eyes in response. 

Aramis walked them to the door of the tavern, offering instructions to D'Artagnan as Athos grumbled about not needing the attention. Aramis gave D'Artagnan's shoulder a squeeze wishing him luck and promising to stop by Athos' quarters later in the evening. 

The walk back to Athos' quarters was short but D'Artagnan noticed the older man seemed a bit worse for wear by the time he arrived at home. "Why don't you get into bed and I'll make you some tea." He offered, ushering his friend towards his bedroom. 

"D'Artagnan," the older man's voice was thick with congestion. "Thank you but that's really not necessary. You can return to the tavern with the others."

D'Artagnan smiled at his mentor, "I'm sure you already know I'm not going. I'll start your tea."

Athos grumbled, but smiled to himself as he made his way towards his bedroom. He removed his leathers and his clothes and slipped under his covers shivering slightly. He glanced over at the fireplace longingly, but he just didn't have the energy to start a fire. 

D'Artagnan appeared a short time later with a large mug of steaming tea. He frowned at the look of discomfort he caught on his friend's face before Athos realized he was there. "Are you alright Athos? And don't tell me your fine."

The older man sighed, " Mon dieu D'Artagnan , you're more of a mother hen than Aramis! I'm really not that ill. I have a headache, and some pressure from the congestion. I assure you it's nothing serious. "

"Hopefully the tea will help some. Is there anything else I can get you?" He asked as he handed the mug to his friend who was sitting up in bed. 

"Nothing, thank you." He smiled as he sipped the tea. 

"You're welcome Athos." He rested his hand for a moment on his friend's arm and then turned to the hearth to start a fire.

By the time Athos finished his tea the fire was burning brightly and heating the room nicely. "Thank you D'Artagnan ." Athos smiled gratefully at his young friend who retrieved his empty mug.

"You're welcome Athos. What else can I do?"

The older man shook his head, "I can't think of anything. "

D'Artagnan frowned at the continuing congestion in the man's voice and the his general appearance of discomfort. "Is your headache still bothering you?"

"Not so much a headache, just the pressure, mostly in my face, even my teeth ache." The older man admitted. 

"Would you like some more tea?" The young man offered turning to return to the fire. 

"No, thank you ," Athos shook his head,"To be perfectly honest, I hate tea."

D'Artagnan tried to hold back his smile,"Aramis told me to make you lots of it."

"Of course he did," Athos chuckled softly," Aramis knows how much I hate it, yet he forces it on me whenever I'm ill. "

D'Artagnan grinned,"Is there nothing else you'd like?"

Athos shook his head, "There's no need to worry about me..."

"I know Athos, you're "fine"," the younger man sighed, "How about some soup? I could go to the garrison and check within Serge," 

Athos shook his head,"There isn't any soup today, I did check this evening. But thank you."

"Well, I'm going to see if I can find something," he held up his hand to stop Athos' protest. "I'm going anyway Athos, you might as well get some rest." Athos huffed and smiled after the young man as he left his quarters and set off to the garrison. 

D'Artagnan quickly made his way back to the garrison and to the mess hall. Serge was cleaning up from the Musketeers evening meal and looked up as the Gascon entered. "What can I do for you lad?"

"Good evening Serge, I was wondering if there might be any soup?"

The older man shook his head,"Nothing tonight, I've got some stock started for tomorrow though, can I get you something else?"

"No, but thank you. I was hoping to get some for Athos, he's a bit .....under the weather." He knew Athos would be annoyed that he was telling others he was ill but he was hoping to get some sympathy from Serge. 

"That explains why he didn't take any supper tonight. You're welcome to take him some of the broth if you'd like." The older man offered.

D'Artagnan nodded at the offer, remembering garbure, the tasty stew his mother used to make when he was sick with a cold." Would you mind if I took some vegetables too to make some soup?"

"'Course not lad, come take what you like. Do you need any help?"

D'Artagnan assured the man he knew what to do and Serge loaded him up with a large pot, a crock of the broth, some pork leftover from dinner and a selection of vegetables. 

D'Artagnan was pleased to find Athos sleeping when he returned, his congested snores echoing through the small apartment. He was grateful for the small kitchen area as he spread out his supplies on the table and began chopping the vegetables. 

Making the stew reminded him of his childhood and brought him back to his mother's kitchen in Gascony. She always made him garbure when he was ill. On one occasion when she was sick he'd insisted that he and his father make it for her. Looking back, them making soup had been a lot of work for her, but she had still taken the time to teach him. It was a bittersweet memory with both his parents gone, but he was grateful he knew how to make the soup for Athos. 

By the time the door opened some time later the air was rich with the smell of the savory vegetable soup. "It smells delicious in here!" Porthos declared and Aramis agreed. 

"Shhhhh, Athos is sleeping." D'Artagnan urged. 

"Not anymore," Athos croaked from his bed. 

"Sorry," Porthos cringed. "How are you feeling?"

Athos merely shrugged and let out a sigh. 

"That good huh?" Aramis offered sympathetically bringing him some water while D'Artagnan ladled some soup into a bowl. 

Athos greedily drank the water and then looked at the younger man in surprise,"There was soup?"

"No, I made it. It's garbure, my mother used to make it when I was sick." He handed Athos the bowl and added softly, "It always made me feel better."

Athos was moved by the gesture, thinking once again how lucky he was to have found these men, and how grateful he was to be able to call them his brothers. "Thank you D'Artagnan ." He whispered taking the bowl from his friend. Then with a grin he added,"Aramis only gives me vile tea when I'm ill."

Aramis huffed dramatically, "Well if you prefer to have young D'Artagnan here take care of all your medical needs...I'm sure soon enough he'd grow tired of all the snot and the blood!"

Athos put his hand on Aramis' arm as they all laughed. "Aramis, you know how much I appreciate all your care and attention to my medical needs."

Aramis smiled fondly at his friend,"Luckily for you my friend I do." He patted his arm affectionately. "Now, get going on that soup."

The friends sat around the bed in silence for several minutes as Athos ate his soup. Before long the older man was sniffling as the soup worked to relieve his congestion. 

"The soup seems to be working well," Aramis commented retrieving a handkerchief from Athos' chest of drawers and handing it to his friend. Athos nodded his thanks and turned away from his friends to blow his nose. 

Athos turned to D'Artagnan ,"D'Artagnan, thank you. I am feeling much better and I am most grateful. You are far too generous to me, I do not deserve such attention..." He began. 

D'Artagnan looked almost hurt, "How can you say that Athos after all you have all given me? I have a family again after losing mine, I have brothers who worry and care for me. We're it not for the three of you I would be all alone."

There were tears in both men's eyes as Athos pulled him toward the bed and embraced him, Porthos and Aramis quickly joining in. The four men remained together for the night, none feeling that he wanted to leave his brothers. The morning found D'Artagnan curled up across the foot of the bed and Porthos and Aramis sprawled on the floor in front of the fireplace. Athos awoke first and could not suppress his smile nor the feelings of gratitude that filled his heart as he looked upon his brothers.


	3. Captain Treville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inseparables take care of their captain when he is unwell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had not planned on writing a chapter about Treville for this but he just showed up in my head and would not leave until I wrote this chapter.

Captain Treville sat at his desk with his head in his hands trying to will away his pain. It felt like the entire regiment had galloped across his skull. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a headache so bad, it had been years. And of course it would come on a day that he could not hide in his office, ostensibly working on paperwork. 

He had a full day of duties planned. He had to be at the palace for court all morning and the rest of the day was to be spent working with and evaluating the new recruits. He pushed himself to his feet and made his way to the door of his office. The bright sunlight when he opened the door had him wincing and he made his way back in to grab his hat. 

The four inseparables made their way to the garrison courtyard just in time for muster. They had returned late the night before from a week long mission, but finding the captain's rooms dark that had decided to wait until morning to report. 

"Something's wrong with the Captain," Porthos commented as Treville made his way down the stairs. 

"What do you mean?" Aramis looked up in concern. 

"He's in pain." Porthos stated, " Look at his face."

The others all looked at their Captain critically. Aramis was about to comment when the Captain called them to attention. He relayed the duty assignments for the day and then nodded at the four to follow him to his office to report off. As they had expected they were to be granted a couple of days off following their mission. 

On his way to his desk the Captain knocked a pile of papers to the floor. As he bent over to pick them up he was struck by a way of dizziness. The Musketeers entered his office to find Treville squatting on the floor, gripping his desk, eyes closed tightly. 

"Captain!" The four men ran to him, Aramis and Porthos gently lifting him and sitting him in his chair. 

"Thank you, " Treville offered as his dizziness passed. 

"Captain, you're ill." Aramis looked at the Captain with concern. "You should be in bed.

"It's just a headache Aramis. Nothing to be concerned about."

Aramis sighed, "I beg to differ Captain. You don't seem well enough for duty today."

"Well there is nothing to be done about it. I'm due a court shortly." Treville spoke decisively, "Now, about your mission."

The men reported the details of their mission while watching their captain with concern. His face was pale and he was clearly still in significant pain. When they finished he dismissed them and stood quickly to leave his office. He was once again overcome with dizziness and stood with his eyes closed, fighting back waves of nausea. He found himself grateful to have skipped his breakfast that morning. 

The men stood in the doorway hesitant to leave. It was Athos who voiced the concerns they all shared. "Will all due respect Captain you do not seem truly fit to perform your duties. " 

"Sir, are you sure there isn't there something we can do?" D'Artagnan asked. 

Treville sighed, his nausea and dizziness back under control. "I appreciate your concern gentleman but I have duties to attend to."

"Captain, perhaps I could take your place in court this morning." Athos offered. "You do not seem to be at your best. "

"We could work with the new recruits," Porthos offered. "The lad here could use all the practice he could get." He ruffled D'Artagnan's hair with a grin and dodged the punch the Gascon threw at him. 

Treville smiled faintly at their antics. "I appreciate the offer gentlemen, but I'm not sure the king would be forgiving of my absence. Now I must be off." 

Treville made his way to the door, cringing at the bright sunlight. His hand automatically going to his head as he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned against the doorframe, fighting back the bile rising in his throat and trying to remain upright. 

"Captain, I think it would be best if you did not attend court this morning." Aramis moved close to the older man, "I'm not sure that you would make it sir." Treville sighed, fearing the medic was right, knowing the king would not be pleased with his absence. 

Athos grasped his arm gently. "I will let the king know that you are attending to some urgent security concerns."

"All right, thank you gentlemen, that would probably be for the best." Treville huffed in defeat. "Take D'Artagnan with you to court, and get moving. The king will be even unhappier if you are late."

Athos nodded at the captain as he and D'Artagnan slipped past him and hurried off to the palace. Treville turned to Aramis and Porthos, "You two are dismissed."

Neither moved. "Captain, let us help you first." Aramis offered. "Porthos, could you please get my medical bag from my room?" Porthos nodded and quickly set off. 

"Aramis, I appreciate your concern, but it's not necessary." He staggered as he stepped away from the door. 

Aramis put his arm around the older man. "Humor me sir." Aramis helped him back to his bed. He sat him on the edge of the bed and removed his boots and his doublet. 

"Thank you son." He murmured as Aramis helped him lie back down on the bed and pulled the covers over him. "You can go now Aramis, I'll just be sleeping."

"Not just yet sir," He stood as Porthos returned with his kit.

Aramis prepared a medicinal tea to help the Captain's pain and nausea, along with something to help him sleep. Porthos helped him sit up in bed while Aramis held the cup. Had he not felt so miserable Treville would have refused the help and sent them away. He wouldn't admit it, but he was grateful for their care. 

Aramis remained in Treville's office, silently watching over his captain as he slept. He darkened the room as best he could and had cool water ready for him beside the bed. Porthos remained with him throughout the morning and after attending court Athos took his place while Porthos and D'Artagnan set out to drill with the recruits. 

Treville woke twice during the day. The first time was soon after he drifted off, overcome with dizziness and nausea, unable to fight back the sickness. Aramis silently held the chamber pot and rubbed his back, trying to offer his captain both dignity and comfort. When he was finished, he offered him a few sips of water and sent Porthos for a basin of water and some cloths. He gently washed the sweat from the Captain's face, and left a cool cloth across his forehead. 

The second was soon after Athos had returned from court. He was surprised to find the men in his quarters at first, but soon remembered the mornings events. Athos sat beside his bed , helping him drink some water to ease the foul taste in his dry mouth while Aramis prepared another dose of his medicinal brew. He was too weak and exhausted to properly thank them, but he managed a nod and they knew what he was trying to say. 

It was late in the evening before he woke once again. The room was dark save for the light of a single candle in his outer office. He was not surprised to see his men silently sitting around his room. Aramis was still beside him, and moved quickly to help him sit up on the edge of the bed, keeping a steady hand on his shoulder as he swayed momentarily. He produced a cup of water, holding on to it until Treville's hands stopped trembling. 

Treville managed a weak smile at the man and squeezed his arm in a silent gesture of gratitude. "How are you feeling sir?" The marksman asked softly. 

"Better," Treville croaked, "Just....tired now."

Aramis smiled, realizing he was speaking the truth. The Captain cleared his throat, "Didn't I dismiss you all hours ago?" He demanded of his men, his expression soft. 

"We did leave sir," D'Artagnan offered. "We just came back."

"Captain, do you think you could manage some broth?"Aramis asked and Treville nodded, the emptiness of his stomach was gnawing, but the idea of solid food still overwhelming. Porthos moved to the table and ladled some broth from a crock into a large mug and brought it to him. 

He nodded his thanks and drank most of it before placing the mug on the table beside him. He then turned to Athos. "How displeased was his Majesty at court this morning?"

Athos shrugged, "Perhaps a bit at first, but he seemed to get over it quickly enough."

"Athos told him you were investigating very sensitive information. Too vital to be trusted to anyone else. " D'Artagnan offered with a grin. 

"That did seem to appease him." Athos added dryly, "Though you will need some closure to the story, it seemed the best way to keep him happy today."

"Thank you Athos. Truly, I owe thanks to all of you. But I am feeling better now. Please, you are all dismissed." Aramis helped him lie back down as the others rose to leave. He walked them to the door bidding them good night. 

Treville was not at all surprised when Aramis closed the door behind his friends and made his way back to the chair placed beside the Captain's bed. "You've been here all day Aramis, I'm fine. It's time for you to go."

"You're still not steady sir. I would feel better being here in case you need anything."

Treville huffed, "Have you had anything to eat son?"

Aramis smiled, sensing he had already won the unspoken argument. "I have sir, Porthos assured I was well fed. You should try to get some more sleep."

Treville looked fondly at the younger man, hoping the shadows hid his expression. He felt a bond with all his men, the inseparables more so than the rest. But somehow he felt an even stronger connection to Aramis. Perhaps it had started after Savoy in his desire to care for and protect the young man but it had grown and deepened since that time. 

He fought to stay awake, to tell him to go, back to his quarters, to the tavern or to one of his mistresses, that he was fine. But as he drifted off to sleep, he knew, without question that Aramis would remain by his side for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aramis and D'Artagnan will be coming eventually, I'm just waiting for the right inspiration.


	4. D'Artagnan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter it's D'Artagnan who is injured/sick and hiding it from his brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was based on a prompt suggested by the lovely DebbieF.   
> Thank you for the great inspiration!

In his defense he didn't even know he was wounded at first. It was only hours later when the dust had settled and the others were taken care of that he even realized. Aramis had just finally gone to sleep, there was no way he was going to wake him up for something so minor at that point. So he had decided to just take care of it himself. Clearly that had been the wrong decision. 

The attack had come so quickly that they hadn't even had a moment to prepare. They were on their way back to the garrison, were just outside Paris when they were attacked by a dozen men. They clearly did not match the Musketeers in skill, but their three to one advantage worked in their favor at least initially. 

When it was over eleven of the men lay dead before then, one had managed to escape. He had thought to chase him but one look back at his friends had stopped him. Athos was on the ground unconscious and Porthos was bleeding profusely from a wound on his arm. Aramis was between his two friends, trying to help them both. D'Artagnan made his way quickly to the medic to assist him. 

Porthos urged them to tend to Athos, but Aramis had insisted on binding his wound first. "I'll not have you bleeding out while we are trying to rouse Athos." He snapped, overcome with worry. He quickly looked up at Porthos to apologize. 

"I know, it's fine." Porthos responded before he even spoke. "I'm worried too."

Aramis squeezed his shoulder gratefully and had D'Artagnan help him remove Porthos doublet so he could get at the wound. A quick look told him it would need stitches, but it was not safe to do them in such an exposed location. He instructed D'Artagnan to bind the wound tightly and turned his attention to Athos. 

The older man had been battling and besting two opponents with swords when a third man had struck him in the head from behind with his musket bringing the man down immediately. Porthos had seen it happen and had literally picked up the the man he was fighting and had thrown him at Athos' attackers. Within minutes all four of the attackers were dead. He watched Aramis tending to his fallen brother with deep concern as D'Artagnan carefully bound his arm. 

After a minutes Athos slowly blinked and opened his eyes. "What...happened?" He asked, his eyes unfocused.

He tried to sit up but Aramis placed a hand on his chest. "Rest another minute Athos, let me get a look at you. D'Artagnan and Porthos had shared sighs of relief in hearing Athos arguing with Aramis. 

Once Aramis had determined that they could ride they helped their friends back on their horses, riding just far enough to reach a nearby inn. Athos and Porthos had insisted they could ride on to the garrison but Aramis would not hear of it. It was late in the day and he was not comfortable with his two injured brothers riding in the dark when he wouldn't be able to watch them closely. 

Despite their objections he and D'Artagnan settled both men in at the inn. First Porthos' wound was cleaned and stitched and then Aramis thoroughly examined Athos. He allowed them both to sit at the room's small table while D'Artagnan went to get their dinner. 

"D'Artagnan ?" Aramis had called to him as he was leaving the room. "You're alright? You weren't injured were you?"

"I'm fine Aramis, thank you." He smiled, truly believing he had not been injured. "And yourself?"

"I'm fine as well." D'Artagnan nodded at his friend and made his way to the inn's dining room. 

Aramis fussed over Athos and Porthos through dinner and for quite sometime before D'Artagnan was finally able to convince him to get some rest, helping him undress and guiding him into bed beside Porthos. 

"Let me take first watch Aramis," he'd argued seeing the exhaustion on the medic's face. They were at the end of a two week mission and though they were all fatigued but he knew the toll worrying about their injured brothers' conditions took on his friend. Aramis had finally agreed after giving D'Artagnan a long list on instructions and making him promise to wake him if there were any concerns about either men. 

D'Artagnan sighed in relief after finally seeing Aramis surrender to sleep. Watching over Aramis as he watched over an injured brother was a job they all took seriously. Aramis was all too likely to neglect himself when he was worried about any of the others and needed to be forced to rest and eat. 

As the adrenaline and deep worry finally left his body D'Artagnan became aware of an ache in his side. As he took off his doublet the pain became more sharp with the movement of lifting his arm. He put a hand to his side and was surprised to find that it came back bloody. His first instinct was to look and be sure that Aramis was still asleep, there was no need to wake him. If he hadn't even noticed he was wounded, surely it could not be too worrisome. 

He walked over to the table where a small lamp was burning and lifted his shirt to examine the wound. It seemed to be a long slice, from a sword clearly. It must have happened at some point during the attack and he hadn't even noticed.

It didn't look too bad, he told himself, he'd just clean it and bandage it himself. There was no need to wake Aramis when he'd just gotten him to go to sleep. He knew if he woke him for this his friend would be up all night, refusing to let D'Artagnan take his turn at watching over the others. Besides, he knew Aramis would be angry, thinking he had deliberately hidden his injury from him. 

He took some bandages from Aramis' bag, doused the wound with wine, hissing at the pain, and wrapped the bandage around himself as best he could. Then he rummaged in his own bag to find another shirt. The large blood stain on the one he was wearing could not be missed. 

Finally he settled into the chair between the beds so he could watch over both Athos and Porthos. His side ached fiercely, he was sure it was still burning from the wine and his awkward job of bandaging himself. 

Despite his discomfort he followed Aramis' instructions to the letter. Waking Athos every hour and dutifully checking Porthos' bandage regularly. As much as he had promised himself that he would let Aramis sleep through the night he ended up waking him up to take a shift as they planned. 

His body craved sleep and even though the pain in his side had dulled somewhat it still throbbed and ached and he craved the oblivion and relief of sleep. Aramis woke immediately at his touch sitting up with a worried look. 

"They're fine Aramis," he whispered placing his hand reassuringly on his arm. "I just woke Athos and checked Porthos' bandage."

Aramis nodded and yawned, looking critically at the younger man. "I'm fine Aramis, just tired." D'Artagnan answered with a faint smile before the question was asked. Aramis nodded, satisfied with the answer, bidding the younger man goodnight as he climbed into bed beside Athos. 

A few hours sleep seemed to definitely help the Gascon and he definitely felt better upon wakening. Their was still an ache in his side, but nothing that he could not manage. Part of him knew he should tell Aramis and let him change the bandage, but he already had his hands full with Porthos and Athos. D'Artagnan promised himself he would change it as soon as they returned to the garrison. 

The set out for the garrison after breakfast. What normally would have been a short ride took them most of the morning. Aramis and D'Artagnan set the pace deliberately slow, knowing every uneven step and bump was jostling their friends and adding to their discomfort. Aramis had wrapped Porthos' arm in a sling, but there was really nothing he could do for the pounding in Athos' head. D'Artagnan found himself appreciating their slower pace as well as his side continued to ache and was further aggravated by his doublet rubbing against it. 

They finally reached the garrison around noon. The four slowly made their way of to Treville's office. The Captain's expression was one of concern at the site of them. His men were clearly a bit worse for wear than when he sent them out. 

As was standard Athos reported the outcome of their mission to the captain, but then Aramis interjected the status of Athos and Porthos' injuries after Athos spoke of the ambush. Treville frowned but was grateful their injuries were not any worse than they were. 

He looked to Aramis to determine how much time the injured men needed to be off duty, he knew if he left it to them they'd be back at muster the following morning. The two men scowled at Aramis as the captain followed his recommendations exactly. D'Artagnan managed a smirk at Aramis without the others noticing. 

Treville dismissed them, granting Aramis and D'Artagnan an additional day of leave before they would need to be back on duty. Without any discussion the four made their way back to Athos' rooms away from the garrison. They were the biggest and all four knew that there was no way Aramis planned on leaving the two injured men alone yet. 

The pain and fatigue was clear on the faces of Athos and Porthos and Aramis immediately ushered them into Athos' bed while he sent D'Artagnan out to a nearby tavern to retrieve lunch. The Gascon was grateful for the time away from Aramis for a few minutes so he didn't have to work so hard to hide his own discomfort. 

By the time he returned a short time later Porthos and Athos were already sleeping. He joined an exhausted looking Aramis at the table. "You look as tired as I feel." He offered with a smile and Aramis grinned in return. 

"It has been a long two weeks, and an even longer twenty four hours." D'Artagnan nodded in agreement. 

"You should get some rest while they're sleeping."D'Artagnan offered as they ate. "They're going to need you more than me later."

"Oh don't worry my friend, I'm sure you'll be needed as well. You know how difficult they are when they are forced to rest." Aramis grinned once again, "No different than the two of us I suppose." 

"I suppose not," D'Artagnan agreed finishing his stew. 

After some persuasion Aramis reluctantly agreed to rest while the others were sleeping, promising to give D'Artagnan a chance to nap as well. He once again relayed his instructions as D'Artagnan assured him he remembered them all from the previous night(and the last time...). Aramis chuckled as he grabbed the extra blankets and pillows Athos kept for just such occasions and curled up on the floor. 

D'Artagnan gingerly raised his hand to feel his bandage once he was sure that Aramis was asleep. He was grateful that it felt dry, he would need to remember to change it later once he was alone. He settled into a chair beside the bed, pleased to see his friends sleeping peacefully. 

Porthos was the first to wake, groaning as he tried to push himself up in bed. D'Artagnan helped him up and stood beside him until he gained his balance and made his way to the table. Porthos grunted his thanks as D'Artagnan prepared a bowl of stew and some bread for him. 

Realizing that Athos had been sleeping for a couple of hours D'Artagnan gently nudged him awake. The older man grimaced at the pain in his head but slowly got himself out of bed and over to the table accepting his meal from the Gascon with a nod. D'Artagnan was pleased to see both men eating well and he knew Aramis would be pleased as well. 

It wasn't long before the marksman stirred from his makeshift bed on the floor. "You're up," he smiled as he made his way to the table. "How are you my friends?"

Both men offered grunts and nods as Aramis came over to them. He turned his attention to D'Artagnan who appeared ready to drop on his feet. "You my friend need to get some rest." 

D'Artagnan briefly considered finding an excuse to return to his quarters so he could change his bandage and better clean the wound, but he just didn't have the energy. Feeling exhausted he just nodded and made his way to the nest of blankets on the floor. 

Aramis frowned as he watched the younger man. Porthos looked at him questioningly. "That just seemed a little too easy." He murmured concern creasing his brow. The others nodded in agreement looking down at D'Artagnan who seemed to have fallen asleep almost instantly. 

"Don't think he got much sleep." Porthos commented. 

"That is true," Athos nodded, "But when have you ever seen him willingly nap?" Aramis agreed, joining his friends at the table, his worry now encompassing all three of his friends. 

When D'Artagnan awoke several hours later Aramis had already forced Athos to lie down again to help his headache and was sitting at the table talking with Porthos. The younger man could feel Aramis' intense gaze on him before he even looked up. 

"How are you feeling D'Artagnan?" The medic asked, the worry apparent in his voice. 

"Much better now that I've slept," he smiled. "Why what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I guess. It's just unlike you to agree to rest so easily. You worried me," Aramis offered sheepishly. 

"So now I'm in trouble for following your instructions?" D'Artagnan grinned. 

"The lad's got a point there 'Mis," Porthos chuckled. "That must be why we don't usually listen..."

"Yes, I'm sure that is why," Aramis muttered shooting both men a dirty look. 

Once Athos awoke the four men made their way to the Garrison for supper. Aramis argued that Athos especially should stay in his room to rest but he was hearing none of it. The four sat in their usual table in the courtyard, all feeling pleased at the return to normalcy. Treville stopped by to check in, and despite their insistence that they were ready to return to duty gave Athos and Porthos another day off. 

By the end of their meal all four of them were exhausted and looking a bit worse off once again. Aramis was determined to spend one more night watching over his injured friends but they absolutely refused, insisting that he and D'Artagnan needed to rest before they returned to duty.  
Aramis argued with passion but Athos would not budge. Finally in an effort to end the argument Porthos suggested that he spend one more night in Athos' rooms and they could watch out for each other. 

Aramis wasn't especially happy but it seemed a reasonable compromise. He managed to convince them to let him come along and change Porthos' bandage before returning to his own room. The three sent D'Artagnan off to his own bed after supper, seeing the exhaustion clearly on the boy's face. 

He thought to argue but that seemed too tiring, in truth he wanted nothing more than his bed. Once he was assured of Aramis' plans to settle his brothers into bed, he bid them goodnight and slowly made his way to his quarters. 

His side seemed to be growing more uncomfortable and by the time he made it to his room it had started to throb. He found the small bag of bandages that Aramis had insisted they all carry and removed the dressing. The wound seemed especially tender and looked a bit red even in the dim candlelight. He was pleased not to see any pus or bleeding so he cleaned it quickly with some wine and put a new bandage on. Then, exhausted he climbed into bed and was asleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow. 

Despite his fatigue the pain in his side kept his sleep from being restful. His movements exacerbated his pain, causing him to wake frequently throughout the night. By the morning he really didn't feel any more rested than he had the previous night. He barely got him self out of bed in time to make it time to grab breakfast before muster. He looked quickly at his bandage and decided to leave it until the afternoon. 

He made his way to the courtyard and took his seat beside Aramis. "How are the others?" He asked before Aramis could start to question him about how tired he must look. 

Aramis grinned, of course D'Artagnan knew him too well to think that he had not been at Athos' rooms first thing in the morning. "They are well today. Athos' headache is much improved and Porthos' wound is healing well. It must be my fine needlework."

D'Artagnan smiled in return, digging into his breakfast, "Of course." 

"You look tired my friend," Aramis looked at the younger man appraisingly. 

"I'm fine," D'Artagnan yawned. "Though a few more hours of sleep would have been welcome."  
Aramis nodded in agreement and stood as Treville made his way down the stairs. 

The two were assigned to guard duty at the palace. D'Artagnan was pleased that it would likely be an uneventful day. He knew that any kind of sword work would only aggravated the pain already burning in his side. Treville asked after Athos and Porthos before sending the two on their way to the Louvre. 

The day was especially long for the Gascon. The pain in his side continued to grow worse, and by afternoon he was starting to feel generally unwell. Aramis watched his friend with concern. He questioned him a few times during the day, but of course D'Artagnan insisted he was fine. 

Rationally D'Artagnan knew that he should just tell Aramis about his wound. However, he had not put together in his mind, clouded by pain and a rising fever that the reason he felt so ill was that his wound was infected. His brain was telling him they were two separate things. 

By the time they left the palace to return to the garrison the young man was shivering. He thought he was hiding it well from Aramis, but the medic's keen eyes never missed such symptoms in his friends. 

"D'Artagnan, you're not well," Aramis began as they reached the Garrison, putting his hand on his friends arm. 

D'Artagnan looked surprised, "I'm fine Aramis." He tried not to shiver as a chill wracked his body. 

Before he knew what was happening, D'Artagnan felt his friend's hand on his forehead and Aramis was frowning at him. "You have a fever, you're ill."

"I'm ok Aramis, really." He managed, his teeth almost chattering. 

"What's goin' on?" The sound of Porthos' voice startled him and he turned to see Porthos and Athos beside him. 

"Nothing," D'Artagnan quickly answered, though he knew that Porthos was really asking Aramis. 

"Our young Gascon here is ill." Aramis frowned, still holding the younger man's arm. 

"D'Artagnan?" Athos questioned, looking closely at the younger man, the concern evident on his face. 

"There's nothing wrong Athos," D'Artagnan insisted. "I'm just cold." He added after seeing his friend's doubtful expression. 

Athos frowned, "You realize that it is a warm day," He paused, putting a hand to the Gascon's forehead. " And that you are burning with fever."

"Let's get him to bed," Aramis interjected and he and Porthos both took one of his arms. All three of the men were even more concerned when their brother did not argue, and meekly submitted to being led to his room. 

Treville watched the scene with concern, raising an eyebrow to Athos as they passed him. Athos shrugged and shared a look that promised an update to the captain later on. By the time they got D'Artagnan to his room he was shivering violently. 

"Let's get you undressed and into bed." Aramis spoke softly and soothingly, helping his friend out of his doublet while Athos and Porthos removed his boots. They stood him for a moment to remove his trousers and then Aramis helped him remove his shirt. 

"D'Artagnan, what is this?" He demanded noting the bandage wrapped around the younger man. 

"It's nothing Aramis." D'Artagnan did not meet his eye. 

Aramis unwrapped the bandage and gasped at the site of the wound underneath. The whole area around it was swollen and bright red, and the dressing was soaked with pus. "Mon Dieu D'Artagnan what have you done to yourself?

Porthos and Athos could hear the anger and worry in the medic's tone. "I'm.....I'm sorry Aramis. It didn't seem like a big deal..."

"This is a very big deal D'Artagnan. It's horribly infected! What were you thinking?" Aramis could not contain his frustration. 

"I thought I could take care of it..."

"'Mis, let's get him into bed and then tell us what you need." Porthos gently placed a hand on his shoulder and Aramis calmed. 

He looked at Porthos with gratitude, "I'll need my medical bag and herbs from my quarters, hot water, wine, cloths to clean the wound and fresh bandages." Athos and Porthos gently helped him settle their youngest into bed an quickly hurried off to retrieve the supplies that Aramis would need. 

D'Artagnan looked up at his friend for a moment before closing his eyes. He knew that Aramis' anger was born from concern for him and he felt terribly guilty for causing his friends so much worry. He wanted to apologize but he knew from experience that Aramis would not even listen to him until his wound was tended to, and would not even think of forgiving him until he felt the Gascon was well on the road to recovery. 

He shivered uncontrollably on the bed. Aramis pulled up his blanket and sat beside him on the edge of the bed, gently pushing the hair back from his sweaty forehead. "Oh D'Artagnan, why must you make things so difficult?"

Porthos returned a few minutes later with Athos close behind, both men carrying everything Aramis had asked for. The medic stood and first started to prepare a pain draught for the young man. Athos pulled a chair over and sat beside the bed. D'Artagnan opened his eyes to see the worried face of his mentor beside him. 

"I'm sorry..." He started but Athos shushed him, running his fingers through the younger man's hair. "No need for that now D'Artagnan." He helped the younger man sit up to drink the pain draught once Aramis brought it over. They carefully layed him back down while Aramis prepared his equipment. 

"I'm going to need to reopen the wound," Aramis gently placed his hand on the dozing man's shoulder. D'Artagnan opened his eyes and nodded. "If you gentlemen could please help hold him. Athos and Porthos nodded as Aramis gently helped D'Artagnan turn on his side. Athos took hold on his shoulder his one hand, and held onto the younger man's hand with his other. Porthos came behind D'Artagnan and rested his hands on his back and legs. 

"I'm sorry D'Artagnan, " Aramis spoke softly, "This will hurt, I'll try to be a fast as I can."

"I know, thank you." He whispered closing his eyes. 

As promised the procedure was extremely painful. Aramis was forced to open the wound widely to drain the infection and be able to clean it thoroughly. D'Artagnan struggled to remain silent, he knew his crying out would only further distress his brothers. He fought to remain alert, finally giving into the darkness as the pain overwhelmed him. 

D'Artagnan woke to the sensation of a gentle touch, something blissfully cool on his face and neck. He slowly opened his eyes "Are you with us?" Athos whispered and he turned his head to find his mentor sitting beside him, a wet cloth in his hand, his face clearly showing deep worry and exhaustion. 

"Athos," he croaked, his throat parched. 

The older man gently lifted his head and held a cup of water to his lips. The Gascon drank greedily, quickly finishing the water and accepting another cup. He nodded that he was finished after the second cup and Athos gently placed his head back onto the bed. He pushed the younger man's hair back from his forehead, his hand lingering to feel how much heat still burned from his fever. 

Eyes adjusted to the predawn dimness of the room, D'Artagnan looked around to see Aramis sprawled in a second chair on the other side of the bed sleeping, and he could hear the sound of Porthos' snores coming from the floor beside the fireplace. 

"Did I keep you up all night?" The young man rasped, trying unsuccessfully to clear his throat. 

Athos looked at him incredulously, "D'Artagnan, it has been two days since you were last awake."

The young man was stunned and a bit confused. He had faint memories of feeling ill, and of Aramis worrying over his wound, but he'd had no idea things were so bad. "I'm...I'm sorry." He began, unsure of what else to say. 

Athos smiled warmly at him, once again pushing the hair back from the younger man's forehead and then threading his fingers gently through his hair. "I am just pleased to see you awake again, it's Aramis you will need to apologize to."

At the mention of his name the sleeping man stirred. He smiled to see his friend awake. "D'Artagnan, how are you feeling?"

"Tired," the younger man yawned. "I'm sorry Aramis," he added quickly, his expression serious. 

Aramis leaned over and felt his forehead for fever, pausing to stroke his cheek."There will plenty of time to speak of such things later. Right now I want to get some tea with herbs and broth into you while you are still awake." The younger man nodded, wondering if he could stay awake long enough for Aramis to make tea. 

"Porthos," Aramis gently shook his friend by the shoulder as he made his way to the fireplace. The sleeping man was up in an instant, a fearful expression on his face. 

"Everything is fine my friend," He squeezed the big man's shoulder. "I only wanted you to know D'Artagnan is awake."

Porthos' face instantly transformed into a smile as he made his way over to the bed, taking the seat Aramis had vacated beside D'Artagnan. "It's good to see you awake lad," he ruffled the younger man's hair. "You had us all worried."

"Sorry," he whispered. 

"No need for that," Porthos squeezed his shoulder. "Just happy to see your eyes open."

By the time Aramis made his way back to the bed a few minutes later D'Artagnan was sleeping once again. They gently roused him and helped him sit up so that he could drink the two cups of liquid Aramis brought. He managed the medicinal tea and most of the broth, but only with constant poking and prodding to keep him awake. 

The next time he woke was to a searing pain in his side. He tried to push away what ever was hurting him, to get up and away but he was being held down. He fought, but could not move. He could hear voices but could not understand them. The pain in his side suddenly lessened but the hands still held him. 

Finally he could hear a voice in his ear. It was familiar and comforting, it was Athos. "D'Artagnan please, it's alright. Aramis must take care of your wound. Everything is alright, we are here with you. Aramis is helping you. " he continued speaking soothingly and finally the younger man stopped struggling. "Can you please open your eyes so I know you are with us?"

D'Artagnan managed to slowly open his eyes, calmed at the site of his brothers around him. "I'm sorry D'Artagnan ", Aramis spoke softly, "We tried to wake you first but we could not. I am sorry that we hurt you and frightened you."

D'Artagnan nodded and tried to get his bearings. "I'm....ok, you can finish now."

Aramis looked skeptical."Are you sure you don't want a pain draught?"

He shook his head, "No, that will just prolong it. Just finish please..."

Aramis nodded and set back to work. Porthos gave the shoulder he was holding a gentle squeeze. "It'll be over soon, you'll be alright lad."

Once Aramis finished dressing his wound they gently turned him back over and propped him up on pillows. Aramis made him more tea and they helped him drink it. He realized it was evening and wondered if he had been out for days again. 

"You were last awake this morning." Athos answered his unasked question and he smiled and nodded his thanks. 

"How are you?" Porthos asked, looking him over closely. 

D'Artagnan shrugged, "Side hurts, and 'm tired and cold."

Aramis frowned slightly, "Your fever is probably going back up. The tea should hopefully help that and the pain, at least a little." D'Artagnan nodded and remained silent, feeling guilty at all the work and worry he was causing his brothers. 

"D'Artagnan, are you alright?" Aramis asked, his voice expressing the concern they all felt at his change in expression. 

The young man nodded, "I am. I just.....feel badly for worrying you all... For making so much trouble for you."

"Oh, D'Artagnan, we take care of each other, it's what we do." Aramis leaned over him and gave a quick hug, soon to be repeated by the others. 

"You'd do the same for us." Porthos chimed in, carefully squeezing the Gasvon. 

Athos held the younger man tightly for a long moment before finally releasing him. "We are pleased to finally have you back with us." He whispered. "That is what's important now."

"But still, I..." He began but was quickly interrupted by Aramis. 

"That is a conversation that can wait for another day once you are feeling better. "The medic smiled at him, " Don't worry, I will not forget."

D'Artagnan relaxed knowing that at least for the moment Aramis was not angry and he would not have to explain himself. Clearly he had made a mistake in not revealing his injury, but at the time it had made sense to him. He struggled to stay awake and spend some time with his brothers. He felt sure they would worry less that way, but before very long he found himself drifting off to sleep once again. 

The next time he woke he could hear Treville talking to Porthos. The room was still dark so it must have been early. "He woke again last night," he heard him say, "But Aramis is still worried about the infection."

"Let me know if there's any change or if he needs anything. You and Athos are recovering well?"

"We're fine Captain. It's just the lad we're worried about."

"Make sure you rest as well, I can keep you all off duty for the rest of the week. Then we'll have to see how things are."

"Thank you sir, it means a lot to us."

He heard the door close and Porthos made his way back to the bed. He smiled to see the man's eyes open. "How are ye lad?"

"I'm ok," he croaked. 

Porthos poured a cup of water from the pitcher on the bedside table and offered it to the younger man. Porthos gently lifted his head and shoulders off the bed and held the cup to his lips. Porthos frowned as D'Artagnan failed to hold back a whimper of pain with the movement. 

"I'll get Aramis to make you something for pain," he said as he laid him back down in the bed once he'd finished. 

"No don't," he grabbed the big man's arm. "I'll be fine in a minute." Porthos looked at him skeptically. "Please?" The pleading tone in the younger man's voice convinced him to let it go for the moment and he nodded. 

"Thank you," D'Artagnan whispered, trying to breathe through the pain. "I'm alright." He added finally, seeing the worry on his friend's face. 

Porthos looked doubtful but nodded. "He'll be up fussing over you soon enough anyway." He added with a faint smile. D'Artagnan nodded and returned the smile. 

"How angry is he?" 

Porthos shrugged, "That probably depends on how sick you are. You know it's only because he's worried." D'Artagnan nodded. "Why didn't you tell him?"

"At first I honestly didn't know," the Gascon began. "It was only later, once you and Athos were taken care of and Aramis had just fallen asleep that I even realized. I knew if he knew he wouldn't get any sleep at a all. It just didn't seem important enough to wake him."

"That was your first mistake my friend," came a sleepy voice from the corner of the room. " The second was not telling me the next morning. And the third..."

"I think he gets the idea," Porthos chuckled and clapped Aramis on the shoulder as he approached the bed. 

"I do," D'Artagnan whispered meeting Aramis' gaze. "And I am sorry Aramis, truly I am."

Aramis smiled a little sadly, "I know you are my friend I only wish you hadn't gotten so ill." D'Artagnan remained silent feeling once again guilty for causing his friends so much trouble and so much worry. 

"Hey now lad, that's enough feeling guilty for now," Porthos ruffled the younger man's hair. 

"Porthos is right, it is time to focus on your recovery." Athos joined the others beside the Gascon's bed. "Now, you take your medication from Aramis while I get breakfast. When I return I will tell you the story of the time that Aramis neglected to tell us that he had been shot."

"Athos!" Aramis explained, "There is no need....." He was interrupted by Porthos' laughter and even D'Artagnan found himself grinning as the medic sputtered indignantly. 

Once Athos returned with breakfast Porthos helped D'Artagnan into a sitting position and then climbed onto the bed beside him and the others sat in chairs beside the bed to eat their breakfast. They laughed their way through tales of injuries kept secret and the disastrous results. An hour later found D'Artagnan snoring softly, asleep on Porthos' shoulder and the others watching over him, pleased to see his fever finally broken and the faint smile quirking his lips as he dreamed.


	5. Aramis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally it's time for Aramis to be taken care of by his brothers.  
> A day on parade duty in the summer heat takes it's toll on the marksman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to finish this, I'd just been waiting for inspiration to decide how best to torture Aramis.  
> I really appreciate all the comments, kudos and encouragement along the way.

Aramis and D'Artagnan slowly made their way back to the garrison in the oppressive heat. Their clothes were sticking to their skin under their leathers, their hair dripping with sweat. 

"Oi, there they are!" Porthos called with a smile, from where he was standing with Athos near the garrison gates. "Thought you two got lost."

Aramis' only response was a scowl while D'Artagnan managed a chuckle, "Nice of you to help us chase down the thief!"

"We had to stay with the carriage and protect the king." Athos added. "Did you catch him?"

"We did, finally." D'Artagnan huffed. "After chasing him around Paris for an hour. We just turned him over to the Red Guards."

"Who has a parade in middle of a heat wave?" Aramis grumbled wiping the sweat from his face with his handkerchief. He couldn't even remember what the parade was for any more, in fact he felt a bit fuzzy in general. 

"Well, now that you're back, let's get cleaned up and have some supper." Porthos put his arm around Aramis' shoulders. "I'm starving."

Aramis found himself leaning into his friend for a moment as he was struck by a sudden bout of dizziness. "How can you even think of eating in this heat?" He scoffed as he regained his balance before Porthos noticed him swaying.

"Aramis, you must know Porthos well enough by now to know that a little heat is not enough to discourage his appetite." Athos offered with a grin. 

"A little heat," D'Artagnan laughed, "Now that's an understatement."

"Well you three can talk about the heat, but I'm going to get out of these sweaty clothes and get something to eat." Porthos chuckled as they made their way towards their quarters. 

"See you at supper?" D'Artagnan asked as they headed in different directions towards their rooms. 

"I have special plans for dinner," Aramis managed to raise his eyebrows and offered a grin, "I'll join you later at the tavern my friends."

"You never mentioned 'aving dinner plans," Porthos eyed him with surprise. 

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell my dear Porthos." Aramis struggled to keep his voice from wavering.

"Alright then," Porthos looked suspicious , "Make sure you do show up. Otherwise I'll have to come looking for you."

"Of course my friend." He watched the others walk away before slowly climbing the stairs to his room. He felt weak and dizzy, his head pounding as he struggled to stay on his feet until he reached his room. He opened his door and stumbled in.

He knew he needed water and he needed it quickly. He had barely made it back to the garrison that morning in time for muster that morning after the previous night's romantic interlude. He hadn't had time for more than a quick drink before grabbing a roll and heading out to parade duty. 

Unfortunately being so late and tired he'd also neglected to refill his water skin, leaving him with only a few mouthfuls of water for the entire day in sweltering summer heat. He knew his brothers would have gladly shared their water, but he didn't want to take away from them due to his own stupidity. He also hadn't wanted to listen to Athos lecture him about his poor choices. 

Once he had some time to drink and to rest he'd join his friends at the tavern. There was no need for them to worry or scold him about his stupidity. They need never know that there was no dinner date with a lovely lady. 

He made his way to the table to pour himself some water. His hand trembling as he lifted the pitcher and before he knew what had happened he found that he had dropped it on the floor, all the precious water spilling at his feet. 

He swore to himself as he struggled to remove his clothes. He was too hot, his hair was plastered to his head, and the sweat was running down his face and back. He fumbled with his belt and his coat but his fingers were awkward and clumsy. As he swayed on his feet he decided he should just lie down until he started to feel better. 

His room was stifling hot but he didn't have the strength to open the shutters and let some air in. He made two steps towards his bed before he was overcome with dizziness and collapsed on the floor. 

After washing and changing Porthos made his way back to the courtyard frowning and feeling unsettled. "What's wrong?" D'Artagnan asked reading his face as Porthos sat across from him at the table. 

"It's Aramis, something ain't right. He never mentioned having plans tonight.." He frowned. 

"He does not share all of his plans with us," Athos commented. 

"Have you ever known Aramis not to mention an upcoming date, especially on a long boring day?"

"He's got a point," D'Artagnan offered and Athos nodded in agreement. 

Porthos stood "'M gonna go check on him. Be right back." He called over his shoulder as he made his way up the stairs to Aramis' quarters. 

The big man moved quickly, his gut telling him something was wrong with his friend. He pounded on Aramis' door and when he didn't get a response he went in anyway. He gasped to see his friend lying on the floor in a heap. 

"Oh Aramis," he whispered kneeling beside him. He gently turned Aramis over onto his back, frowning at the heat radiating from his friend. "What have you done to yourself."

He gently lifted him to the bed and started unbuttoning his leathers and removed his belt. He was not surprised to hear the door open behind him and find his brothers beside him. 

"What happened?" D'Artagnan asked as Athos set to work on Aramis' boots. 

"Dunno," Porthos grunted pulling off Aramis' coat and shirt. "Found him on the floor." He shook his head."

"What can I do?" D'Artagnan asked feeling helpless. 

"We need cool water," Athos instructed. "Fill the basin." 

D'Artagnan was off in an instant as the other two finished undressing Aramis to his braies. Porthos sat on the bed beside him stroking the hair back from his head and speaking softly to him while Athos opened the shutters to let what little fresh air there was into the room. 

The older man turned back to the bed and rested his hand on Porthos' shoulder. "Is he stirring at all?" He asked, the concern evident in his voice. 

Porthos shook his head, "We need to get him cooled off."

D'Artagnan returned with a basin of cool water and placed it on the table beside the bed while Athos rummaged in a drawer to find some cloths. He handed them to Porthos who immediately dropped them in the basin and started sponging Aramis down with cool water. 

Within a few minutes. Aramis stirred and blinked his eyes open. "There you are," Porthos sighed in relief. "You tryin' to scare me to death?"

Aramis looked at him with confusion, "P'thos, what's wrong?" 

"You're an idiot that's what's wrong," Porthos spoke fondly, sponging his forehead and neck. 

"D'Artagnan, can you get his water skin please, he needs to drink." Athos asked the younger man who had picked Aramis' belongings off the floor and placed them on his chest. 

The younger man picked up the skin and opened it. "It's empty," he turned it upside down to illustrate. " I'll fill the pitcher." He was gone before the others had a chance to respond. 

"How long do you think he was out of water?" Athos asked and Porthos shrugged. 

"'Mis, why is it that you take such good care of us but you can't take care of yourself?" There was exasperation in Porthos' tone. 

"I'm fine," Aramis slurred and tried to sit up in bed. 

Porthos gently placed a hand to his chest and held him in place. "You stay put for now til D'Artagnan comes back with some water." 

Athos sat on the other side of the bed and Porthos handed him the second cloth. He sponged Aramis' chest as Porthos worked on his face and neck. By the time D'Artagnan returned a few minutes later Aramis had become more alert and the confused look had left him. 

Porthos lifted him to a sitting position as Athos held a cup of water to his lips. He drank greedily and asked for a second cup only to be retching a minute later as he was overcome with nausea. Porthos held him up soothing him and rubbing his back as Athos held the chamber pot in front of him. 

"Is he alright?" D'Artagnan asked with concern, desperately wanting to do something useful. "What can I do?"

"He should be fine," Athos responded as Porthos continued to speak softly to Aramis. "Luckily Porthos found him in time."

"I'm....I'm sorry." Aramis gasped, trying to breath through his nausea. 

"Shhhhh," Porthos pushed his hair back from his forehead. "You just breathe, you'll have plenty of time to be sorry later."

Once Aramis' nausea passed they gave him a little more water. "Nice and slow Aramis, we don't want any more coming back up."

Aramis nodded. The marksman was slumped into Porthos' arms, his body boneless against him. "Thank you my friends." He huffed. 

"Someone's got to look after you." The fondness was back in Porthos' voice as he brought the cup to Aramis' lips again. 

After Aramis was able to keep down a good amount of water and the others felt certain he was out of immediate danger Athos and D'Artagnan left to retrieve their supper, knowing there was no way that Porthos would be leaving Aramis' side any time that evening. 

After they left Porthos kicked off his boots and settled on the bed with Aramis. He sat with his back against the wall at the head if the bed, his left arm still almost cradling his friend. He gently stroked his cheek. "Are you okay?" 

Aramis nodded and reached up to squeeze Porthos' hand. "Are you? I'm so sorry to have...."

"When I saw you collapsed on the floor," he sniffed. "I... I didn't know what happened. I was so afraid for you..." Overcome with emotion he fell silent and Aramis reached up and gently wiped his tears. 

"I am truly sorry. I thought that I could... I guess it doesn't matter what I thought because obviously I was wrong. I didn't want to worry you." Seeing how upset Porthos was, Aramis found himself becoming teary as well. 

"I just don't understand how you can take such good care of us and then neglect yourself. Do you understand how that makes us feel?" Porthos' voice was heavy with emotion. 

"I...I guess I don't really think about it the same way."

"Well you should," Porthos growled and Aramis looked up in surprise. "How can you not understand how important you are." He leaned his forehead to Aramis'. "Don't think I could stand to lose you..."

"And honestly dying from the heat is a very unromantic way to die." Both men looked up in surprise to see Athos and D'Artagnan standing in the doorway with a tray of food. "What would all the ladies think?" Athos continued with a smirk.

"Think of the stories," D'Artagnan added with a grin. "The great Aramis, killed by a parade in the heat of summer." He tutted and ducked as a poorly thrown pillow made its way from the bed. 

"Very funny," Aramis tried to look annoyed but failed miserably as D'Artagnan brought a large mug of broth over to the bed. He was grateful for the mug, knowing he was still to weak and shaky to manage a bowl and spoon without spilling it all over himself. As it was Porthos still had to help him steady the mug to drink it. The big man refused to leave the bed until Aramis had finished two servings of the broth and several more glasses of water. 

Athos was finally able to persuade him to make his way to the table to eat and D'Artagnan took his position beside Aramis, continuing to coax water into the man. By the time the men had finished their suppers Aramis was dozing on D'Artagnan's shoulder. 

"I think he will be alright," Athos sensed Porthos' worry and placed a hand in his friend's shoulder. 

Porthos nodded."Just wish he wasn't such an idiot sometimes."

"I heard that!" A sleepy voice replied from the bed and the others laughed. 

Porthos gently lifted him from D'Artagnan's shoulder and settled him into bed, covering him with a light blanket. 

"Do you want us to stay?" D'Artagnan asked, knowing Porthos would not be returning to his own bed. 

"Nah, we'll be fine." Porthos answered sitting in the chair beside the bed. 

D'Artagnan shared a look with Athos and the older man nodded. Both men pulled the chairs from the small table over and joined Porthos as he watched over Aramis. No words were needed as Porthos smiled and nodded at his brothers as they three settled in for the night.


End file.
